


The Wonders Of Fantasy Versus Reality

by DictionaryWrites



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cultural Differences, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Interspecies, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the Hobbit kink meme. Elves often think of Dwarves in the context of bodice ripper fantasies - this does not go undiscovered when the Dwarves are in Rivendell. Dwalin/Lindir, Fíli/female Elf harpist (called Camaenel for the time being), and Kíli with the male Elf harpist (Írondir).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wonders Of Fantasy Versus Reality

"You’re starin’. Can I help you, laddie?" Lindir let out a soft, choked noise, his eyes going wide as the Dwarf pinned him quite firmly to the wall: Lindir would have been taller than him, though not by much, if he had been standing, but for the time being he was sat to the side of the room, watching the Dwarves in silence.

This one was bald on the top, though his beard was thick and long - despite this, Lindir noticed that he carried no braids.

"I was just-" In truth, Lindir had indeed been staring more than a little. The Dwarf’s arms were so terribly thick, and he was obviously strong. He had been interested when he’d teased the younger, attractive Dwarf, but now he was up close, and Lindir had gone from extreme interest to extreme interest mingled with mild terror.

"The name’s Dwalin." The Dwarf interrupted him without fear, and Lindir’s lips pressed together. Such a thick brogue that the Dwarf spoke with, and Lindir felt his knees quiver. Dwalin noticed, because he looked down and eyed Lindir’s shaking legs, and then his gaze went a little higher, eyeing his crotch, before he met the other man’s eyes again.

"L-Lindir."

"Lindir." Dwalin repeated in something of a growl, and Lindir’s heart sped in his chest, and his breathing quickened, and he felt somewhat light-headed. He’d never been this close to a Dwarf before.

He knew it was silly, and the books were no doubt technically disallowed for their inaccuracies on top of their immorality, but the Dwarves - they were so muscled, heavy, bestial, in a way. Lindir found himself fascinated.

"You’re starin’, laddie, or at least, you were." Dwalin leaned closer, until his nose was almost touching Lindir’s, and the Elf let out an almost-whimper, shifting in his chair as he met the Dwarf’s gaze. "Is there somethin’ you want?"

"Yes." Lindir whispered despite himself, and the Dwarf grinned, all teeth and chapped lips, and Lindir bit his own lip.

"And what’s that?"

"I don’t- I don’t kn-"

"Don’t tell me you don’t know. I know you know." He knew. The Dwarf must have known precisely where Lindir’s thoughts had strayed, to having his clothes torn from his body, to being pinned down by Dwarven strength, to being fucked, mercilessly-

"My quarters are not far from-"

"Lead the way, laddie." Dwalin purred, and Lindir did, moving quickly. The other Dwarves watched the both of them go, and before leaving the balcony, Dwalin turned back. He winked, and others among their party laughed.

Dwalin threw Lindir back against the wall as soon as the door closed behind them, and he did rip at Lindir’s robes, and all the Elf could think about was the sound of the cloth being wrenched to pieces as he whined. “Please, oh, oh, Ilúvatar-“

And then Dwalin kissed him, his mouth so rough against Lindir’s lips, and Lindir felt faint. “Never would’o’ expected Elves t’like it rough.” Dwalin said, smug, and then he pulled Lindir roughly forwards before all but throwing him back onto the bed. “But you do, don’t ya? You like the idea of the big ol’ mean Dwarf destroying you and leavin’ you crying on this bed.”

Lindir couldn’t answer: all he could do was nod. Naked, with his trousers barely hanging about his hips for the way they’d been ripped, but that didn’t last: those were gone and then he was actually naked, shoes kicked off and left haphazardly together to the side of the bed.

Dwalin shifted forwards, and his hand went to the other’s neck, tightening a little on the flesh there, and Lindir whined, unable not to. “Do you want me to do this to you, laddie?”

"Yes." Lindir said, and then Dwalin was on him, biting and nipping at the flesh in front of him as his hand tightened at the Elf’s throat. The flesh bruised easily beneath broad hands, one on his throat and the other on Lindir’s hip.

"What do you do, laddie?"

"Wh-what?" Lindir asked breathlessly, letting out a low moan as Dwalin licked a broad stripe of a thick, wet tongue over his cock (pale and thick with blood against his stomach, and yes, Elven cocks were certainly as pretty as Dwalin had been told).

"What do you do, lad? Are you a scribe, a servant, a warrior…?"

"Minstrel." Lindir said, and his voice cracked on the next words when Dwalin dipped yet lower, tongue trailing over his cockhead. "I’m a- I’m a minstrel-"

"Still got a bit of muscle on you." Dwalin commented, and Lindir groaned.

"Can you please put your mouth back-" Lindir cried out as Dwalin put his hand tight on Lindir’s throat again, leaning very, very close.

"You don’t make the rules here, laddie." Dwalin said in a very quiet, exceedingly serious tone, and Lindir took in a desperate gasp, having to make an effort to do so for the sake of the tight grip at his neck. Lindir’s prick gave a little pulse between his legs, and he let out a whimper.

"I understand." He whispered. 

"Good boy." Dwalin returned, and then his head was dipping again and his tongue was lower than before, pressing  _under_  Lindir’s cock and to his- dear  _Yavanna_ -

“ _Oh_ -” Lindir whined, and Dwalin just continued on, thick tongue absolutely divine against Lindir’s entrance as he played over the sensitive skin there. He thrust his tongue forwards and Lindir saw white, his eyes closing tightly as he let out a choked noise and pressed back for more.

Dwalin’s thrusts were rapid and wet and so  _good_ : Lindir was left yowling, and his orgasm came quickly enough. The Elf was breathing heavily, taking in desperate gasps where he lay back on the bed, and Dwalin chuckled, grinning up at him before shifting up a little further and nipping at his navel. “Oil.” He said, and Lindir shuddered, reaching back and blindly grasping for the bottle. 

—-

Lindir was exhausted by the time Dwalin was finished - he was torn between damning and blessing Dwarven stamina.

"How did you- how did you know, that Elves think- that we-"

"Oh, I heard Fíli with one of your lasses." Dwalin murmured conversationally, and Lindir blinked. 

"Oh. Fíli’s the blond?"

"Yes."

"Son of your King?" Dwalin laughed.

"Yes."

—-

"Camaenel. That’s your name, isn’t it?" Fíli asked, and she looked up, regarding him with raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

"That’s it."

"Sounds lovely. What does it mean?" She regarded him with suspicion, pulling her hands away from the harp in front of her, standing and regarding him with a particular look. He was shorter than her, but he didn’t seem to mind, grinning up at her as he was. 

"What does your name mean?"

"Fíli? File."

"Camaen means skilled hand." Fíli raised his eyebrows, expression positively lascivious, and she flushed.

"Oh, hush.  _Dwarves_.”

"I’m a Dwarf, yes." He grinned, taking a step forwards. "Apparently, you have a certain set of thoughts about us." Her flush darkened; Fíli did not notice Dwalin walk past in the corridor outside.

"Is that so?"

"Apparently, you like the idea of a Dwarf ripping into your bodice."

Camaenel raised her eyebrows, their movements a graceful arch, even as her cheeks flushed pink. “So what if we do? What can you do about it?”

"What can  _I_  do about it? Why, I’m a living fantasy!” Fíli purred, and he shifted forwards, catching her by the wrist and pulling her down, kissing her hard.

"No one ever told me Dwarves were so arrogant." She muttered against his lips, and he laughed. 

"No one ever told me Elves were so snooty!"

"Be rougher."

"You couldn’t handle it."

"I can handle it. Be rougher." Fíli laughed, and he readily complied, pushing her hard back against the wall. In truth, it had not been Fíli’s own idea: Kíli had been at fault, having seduced the information out of one of the Elves.

If one could call it seduction.

—-

"I’m sorry." Kíli said through giggles, as the Elf smirked at him. "I just- all of you look so terribly similar! How am I to know who is a woman and who is a man?"

"It’s not always so simple as women and men." The harpist - Írondir, his name was, and Kíli found that he rather liked to say it. 

"No?" Kíli asked, looking skeptical, but the Elf merely gracefully inclined his head. 

"No. You are different to how I imagined a Dwarf to be. Certainly more attractive than your fellows."

"Oh. Yes?" Kíli grinned, leaning closer because Írondir did. The other was good-natured enough, and though he was not so loud as Dwarves tended to be, he was still pleasant and capable enough of humour. 

"Quite. The Elven idea of Dwarves is tainted by literature, in Rivendell." Kíli furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?"

"Why, the way you are portrayed. In certain, ahem… Books."

"Books?" Kíli repeated, already losing interest, but Írondir shook his head. 

"Not just  _books_ , but, ah… Erotic books.” Kíli blinked, momentarily perplexed, and then he understood.

"Oh! You mean-" Kíli’s cheeks went ruddy. "What do you mean? How are we-"

"Oh, you know." Írondir said in a casual tone, leaning forwards and letting his slender hand lay itself upon Kíli’s thigh, making his cheeks burn under what stubble he had - a useless excuse for a beard, in his own eyes, but to Elves, positively adorable. "Rough, bestial, animalistic. In the books, you’re all terribly cruel, and you bite and grab and grasp."

"Oh." Kíli whispered, because Írondir’s lips were now tracing over his own - he was quite distracted by the Elf’s hands, which had forayed all the way up his thighs to cup his crotch through his breeches, and by the Elf’s breath, hot against his cheek as he leaned to press a kiss to the skin there, and he did not hear Fíli’s snicker as the other Dwarf peeked in the room before moving down the hall. "Are you, um, disappointed?"

"Why, not at all." Írondir murmured in a reasonable tone. "Lie back, and I’ll show you how terribly disappointed I am not." Kíli did, and Írondir smirked down at him, evoking a shiver from the Dwarf beneath him - his hands, clever from playing the harp and strumming bowstrings dipped into Kíli’s trousers, and the Dwarf let out a choked noise.

No, it did not seem Írondir was carrying anything  _like_  disappointment.


End file.
